


A House Is Not A Home

by justbreathe80



Category: due South
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe80/pseuds/justbreathe80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hey were up to their knees in snow and holy shit it was cold, but Fraser had a smile on his face that Ray had never, ever seen, and he knew, in his gut, that Fraser wasn't coming back to Chicago. Ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A House Is Not A Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the inuvikdotcom challenge. Prompt: 10. Single Family (housing) 357 units
> 
> This is my post-CotW thing that ate my BRAIN. But now it is done and I am releasing it to the wild, which makes me happier than I can say. YAY.
> 
> Many, many thanks to my gaggle of betas. To brooklinegirl, who read this in parts, even though I was shooting them off to her faster than she could keep up with them, and then read it AGAIN, just because I asked and she loves me. Thanks, darling, for pushing me to make it make SENSE. And telling me that it was okay to fade-to-black.
> 
> Thanks to riverlight, who did beta duty in the midst of settling in to her new life in DC, and to my darling strangecobwebs, who betaed old-school style, by printing it out and editing on the plane on Friday. I heart you!

PRELUDE

 

Ray was screwed.

 

Well, he was pretty much screwed from the first moment Fraser walked into the 2-7 and looked at Ray like he had five heads or something. Or maybe it was from the moment where Fraser asked him to dinner and Ray felt heat go down his spine and into his _dick_. Yeah. That must have been it, right there.

And here they were, in fucking Canada, and Ray knew he was screwed all over again when he saw the look on Fraser's face. They were up to their knees in snow and _holy shit_ it was cold, but Fraser had a smile on his face that Ray had never, ever seen, and he knew, in his gut, that Fraser wasn't coming back to Chicago. Ever.

 

So Ray, in a fit of hypothermia-induced insanity, suggested they go on this adventure and Fraser, god, Fraser had said yes. And after the nuclear sub and Fraser almost kissing Thatcher by the camp fire and catching Muldoon and everything, it was just them, and Fraser really, really wanted to go, had gotten three months leave time. And so here they were. On a dog sled. In the fucking Arctic.

 

Ray had wanted to be awesome at this, kick Canada's ass, but the truth was that he spent about a week falling all over himself in the snow. The snowshoes didn't look particularly complicated, and he’d even been on the damn things before, but they turned out to be fucking rocket science. He also was pretty sure, every night when he crawled into his sleeping bag, bone-tired, that he'd frozen off some really, really vital organ, like his balls.

 

When Fraser finally let him take the reins and drive the sled, he felt like he'd discovered his purpose in life or something. It was like driving the Goat, but there were mountains and snow and it was pretty fucking amazing. Fraser was good at the sled, had style on it the way he never had driving in Chicago, but Ray had an _aptitude_ for it.

So, they fell into the pattern of Ray driving most of the time, Fraser alongside on the snowshoes (fucking great at it, of course), and Fraser in the sled for a couple of days after he'd wrenched out his back putting up the tent. Those days, Ray stared out at the endless white over the back of Fraser's dark hair and didn't miss Chicago, not one bit.

 

Over the first few weeks, Ray drove and got his snow feet underneath him. He was pretty sure he looked all kinds of stupid on the snowshoes, but Fraser smiled at him, one of those great big Canadian smiles, from the sled and he was pretty freaking proud of himself for not giving up on that first day.

 

And see, that was the thing about being here with Fraser. Fraser was his best friend – one of his only friends if he was being honest – and Ray would have said he knew Fraser, better than pretty much anyone ever, back in Chicago. But Fraser here – he hadn't expected it. It was like Fraser's whole self opened up under the huge sky. You'd think that the ball-freezing weather would make anyone go inside themselves, even if it was just to stay warm, but Fraser seemed to almost burst out of himself here, with the weather and the dogs and the hard work. Fraser _talked_, in a way that made Ray realize that Fraser had been kind of quiet before, and he smiled, these huge smiles the size of the whole fucking Northwest Areas, and they made Ray's knees weak. He'd started watching Fraser while he was driving; he just looked, and saw that Fraser was really, really happy, even when some days really sucked, when there was snow and wind and cold that Ray didn't even know existed.

 

One night, as they were getting the tent pitched and the dogs bedded down for the night, Ray noticed Fraser’s red cheeks and wanted to reach out and touch them. He knew that Fraser's face was cold, but he wanted to put his own cold hand there just to see, because it looked like Fraser was warm. He clenched his hand in a fist and willed himself to keep still as Fraser flashed him a smile.

Ray was really scared that he was going to fuck this up.

 

He'd known that he had this hopeless, kind of junior high crush on Fraser since that first day. Maybe _everyone_ had that kind of crush on Fraser, but Ray's never went away, just got stronger and more ridiculous. Ray had spent the last few months in Chicago sitting on his hands when they were in his apartment, watching hockey or whatever, because he just wanted to reach out for Fraser even if it was probably the stupidest fucking idea he'd had in a long time.

 

But out here, it was just him and Fraser and the dogs, and when they undressed and slipped into their sleeping bags every night after eating outside around the fire, Fraser _talked_. He talked about his mom, and smiled when he told Ray stories of how she'd almost set their cabin on fire when Fraser was four, making him a birthday cake, or how his father used to come home to the two of them snuggled in Fraser's parents' bed, his mom reading him a book. Ray could see Fraser, young and smiling and laughing with his mom, and Fraser didn't seem so sad about it; he was just remembering. On the fourth week, they were laying there in the dark (which was not dark like Ray'd ever seen it, it was like _nothing_) and he could hear Fraser breathing steadily next to him, but he wasn't sleeping, and when he opened his mouth, he said, "I've only loved one woman."

 

That was the first time Fraser ever mentioned Victoria.

 

Fraser told him the whole story, from being stranded in Fortitude Pass, on through when Victoria showed up in Chicago. Ray was shaking by the time Fraser got to the part where she shot Dief, and before he could stop himself, he snaked his hand out of the sleeping bag into the frigid night air and Fraser did the same. He held onto Fraser tightly as he finished, turning his back away from Fraser’s warmth toward the cold to face Fraser. Ray had seen the scar, low on Fraser's back and he'd heard this story, but he had no idea. Fraser finished, his breath even and steady in the quiet of the tent, and he squeezed Ray's hand tightly before letting go. "Good night, Ray."

 

It got so that they were talking every night, about their lives, talking like they'd never had the time for before, and the night after Fraser told him about Victoria, Ray started talking too. He'd always talked to Fraser, but this time, he told him about Stella and how things had really been. Fraser reached out and put his hand on Ray's shoulder when Ray told him about how Stella packed up her things and left, how he used to drink after the divorce and show up at Stella's door at night, and how, after a while, she'd sometimes let him in.

 

On week five, or right around then (Ray had sort of stopped keeping track of the days once he was pretty sure he wasn't going to _die_), Fraser got quiet. Normally, it only took him a few minutes to start talking once they'd stopped for the day, but that night, he didn't say anything straight through dinner, just kept his face down in his bowl. Ray started freaking out right around when they headed to the tent, because he was pretty sure at that point that he must have done something really awful to make Fraser stop talking to him like that, and the silence was fucking _screaming_ at him, louder than anything he'd ever heard in his life.

 

Ray went to turn away from Fraser, try to will himself to sleep, when he heard Fraser clear his throat. Ray stayed where he was, facing Fraser until he could make out the faint outline of his face in the dark, and he waited.

 

Fraser took a deep breath. "When I was thirteen, my best friend was Mark Smithbauer." Fraser's voice was hoarse and sounded loud in the quiet space. Ray knew that Smithbauer was a hockey player, but he didn't know Fraser was friends with the guy. He didn't say anything, because he could almost hear in Fraser's tone that this was something big, so he just watched Fraser's face and let him keep talking.

 

"We were friends, and he was – he was everything I wasn't. He was popular and athletic and everyone liked him and no one really cared much for me, but he did. He used to take me to play hockey with him, out on the pond next to the library, every day after school."

 

"That sounds nice, Frase.

 

"One day, Mark and I were at his house, in his bedroom, and his parents were both at work, and, well, his mother came home early." Ray was suddenly very glad for the darkness of the tent, because he was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open. "She found us. We were, ah, we were kissing, on the bed."

 

"Jesus, Fraser. What happened?"

 

"Mark jumped up, and his mother didn't say anything. She just stood there, staring at us, and I panicked and grabbed my things and left, as fast as I could."

 

Ray really didn't know what to say. God, between Mark Smithbauer, and Fraser's mom, and Victoria, no wonder Fraser was like he was, all closed up and closed off, scared even. Ray felt, suddenly, like he'd never known Fraser, maybe just the edge of him, before coming north and going on this crazy fucking adventure with him.

 

Fraser sighed, and turned over onto his back, and Ray heard him snoring softly a few minutes later.

 

Shit. He was even more screwed than he thought, because it was like Fraser was waving some kind of queer flag in front of his face and he really had no idea what he was supposed to do with it.

 

*****

 

Ray kind of figured he would just follow Fraser's lead on this one, but he didn't even have time to freak out the next day before things went completely to shit.

 

He was stuck in another stupid ice crevasse, except this time he didn't have the good fortune of being stuck there with a crazy Mountie who sang and shot a flare and got them rescued by his grade four classmate. He was alone, and fucking freezing, and becoming surer by the minute that he was going to die out there. It didn't matter how good he got with the sled or how he'd stopped falling on his face on the snowshoes; he could always die by walking to take a piss and falling through the ice.

 

Ray had waited out the first half an hour or so, feeling pretty confident that Fraser would figure out he was gone and come get him, but then he started to get colder, and Fraser kept on not coming to the rescue. He tried to sing the "Northwest Passage" song, so that Fraser could hear him, but he didn't really know any of the words and his voice was barely coming out, so he tried a couple of ABBA songs and some Ramones before he gave up. He couldn't really feel his toes and fingers anymore, and he felt really sad all of a sudden, because he realized that he wouldn't ever get to tell Fraser how he really felt, and that he wouldn't ever get to tell Fraser that he'd given Joey Lecko a handjob behind the high school when he was fifteen, and that Stella had come looking for Ray to walk her home and caught them. There were so many things he wouldn't get to do or say now that he was almost dead.

 

And then there was a voice, _Fraser's_ voice, thank god, and a rope dropped down in front of his face. It hurt to move his arms and clench his fingers around the rope, but Fraser's voice was steady and sure and he was saying, "Ray, just put your hands on the rope, like that, yes," and Ray listened and then Fraser was pulling him up and out and onto the soft snow.

 

He still wasn't completely convinced that he wasn't on the brink of death, but he could feel Fraser's hands on him, hauling him up and dragging him toward the tent. Fraser was talking, but Ray couldn't make out the words, couldn't focus on them, they were just a soft murmur in his ear. He was cold, so fucking cold.

 

Fraser got him to the tent and pushed Ray's coat off his shoulders, starting in on opening the buttons of Ray’s shirt. "Frase, what –" Ray started, because nothing was making sense.

 

"It's okay, Ray, I have to get these wet clothes off of you, or there's a real risk of hypothermia. Please. Just let me." Fraser sounded calm, almost _too_ calm, but Ray could hear that Fraser was totally freaking out. So Ray let him, and Fraser had his clothes off fast and was zipping their sleeping bags together and tucking Ray inside. Ray looked up, and Fraser was shedding his own clothes and adding them to the pile of Ray's, and he just watched as Fraser's skin appeared, bit by bit. He'd seen Fraser naked before, but hadn't seen more than his face or a glimpse of fingers since they got out here, and now Fraser was naked and sliding in next to Ray, pressing his warm body up along Ray's and wrapping his arms around him. Ray was kind of pissed at that ice crevasse for making it impossible for him to enjoy being naked in a sleeping bag with Fraser, but he was also _warm_ for the first time in what seemed like forever. "Thanks, Frase," he mumbled, and shimmied closer to Fraser's front.

 

Fraser squeezed him tighter. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have – if anything had –"

 

Ray summoned up all of his energy to turn a little in Fraser's arms, to see his face. "Do not be sorry. I want to be here, and I'm doing good, Fraser, you know I am. This was just a stupid accident, so don't apologize. I'm right where I want to be.”

"Okay, Ray," and Fraser's arms stayed tight around him. And Ray figured he must not be too bad off, because Fraser wasn't stopping him from falling asleep, so he did.

 

*****

 

Ray woke up to the feeling of something heavy and warm all around him, like he was inside of a cocoon or something, and the memory of ice and cold came back to him, but, god, he was so fucking warm. He reached up his hand to feel Fraser, wrapped tight around him, and – wow, okay – Fraser's hot, hard dick pressing into his ass.

 

And normally, Ray would be all over that, but they were in a tent, and Fraser hadn't said anything, not one word about wanting this. God knew that it wasn't that weird for a guy to have morning wood, especially when he was naked and pressed up against another naked person. It was nothing.

 

Ray stayed, wrapped in Fraser's arms, trying not to move too much. He didn't want to wake Fraser up. It was clear pretty quickly that he'd done a lousy job, because Fraser was shifting behind him. Then, he felt Fraser's warm breath on his ear, and Fraser sighed happily. And kissed Ray's neck.

 

Shit.

 

Ray felt his whole body go rigid, but Fraser's fingertips were dragging down Ray's chest and he felt his dick getting hard, and this was so not good. And Fraser was _licking_ the soft skin under Ray's ear and he was going to die.

 

"Fraser," he said softly, because he was pretty sure Fraser was still asleep and had no clue what he was doing.

 

"Hmm?" Fraser replied, burying his nose in the back of Ray's neck.

 

"Come on, wake up." Fraser's hand was on his hip and it was taking every ounce of willpower Ray had not to move it onto his dick.

 

Fraser laughed into Ray's neck, making Ray shiver and push back. "I assure you, Ray, I'm awake." Okay. Huh. "Are you warm?"

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm warm. I have a naked Mountie wrapped around me." He was trying to make a joke, but hi, totally naked Fraser pressed up against him here. Ray pushed back again, almost by accident, this time dragging a moan out of Fraser's throat. Fraser was still holding him close, and he'd never been this warm in his entire fucking life.

 

Fraser's soft kisses on his neck had turned into sucking and biting, and Ray was squirming around and, god, this couldn't really be happening. Fraser hadn't said a damn thing, but it was clear as day that he wanted this, and maybe it took thinking Ray was dead for him to finally fucking _do_ something about it. Ray gasped as Fraser bit down hard right near his shoulder, and he knew Fraser leaving marks, leaving a trail behind on Ray's body, and that made him even harder than he was before.

 

One of Fraser's hands was splayed across his belly, and the other was teasing at the soft skin of his hip, and he wanted Fraser to get things going. "Ray," Fraser murmured. "Can I –"

 

Ray groaned. "Yes, fuck, come on. Please." Fraser's hand moved and wrapped firmly around his cock, which was pretty happy to have any hand on it, considering that Ray hadn't had a minute to even think about jerking off since they started this whole adventure, besides the fact that he shared a very small tent with a very light-sleeping Mountie every night. His dick was even happier to have someone else's hand on it, which hadn't happened in kind of an embarrassingly long time. Fraser's grip was strong and sure, and he was stroking Ray, slow and just a little rough, and it wasn't long until he was practically sobbing in Fraser's arms because it felt so good. Thank god they were hundreds of miles from the nearest person, because he was making a lot of noise, and Fraser was moaning in his ear and sliding his dick in the crack of Ray's ass, over and over again.

 

Fraser flicked his wrist, and that was it, that was fucking it, Ray was coming all over Fraser's hand and, shit, the inside of the sleeping bag but he couldn't bring himself to care that much, because Fraser was sucking hard on the back of his neck and coming all over his ass. He almost wished Fraser had fucked him, because his ass was wet and Fraser's cock was sliding against his hole, and _Jesus Christ_, what the fuck just happened?

 

Ray just laid there, completely still, and felt Fraser's hand stroking his belly slowly, soothingly. Ray wasn’t sure if this was a just one of those _well, Ray, you almost died yesterday so I thought I would save your life and get you off_ kinds of things, or if this was something more. He also wasn't sure when he turned into such a goddamn girl.

 

Suddenly, Fraser was pushing at him to turn over, and he did, turned to face Fraser in the dim morning light of the tent. Fraser reached out his hand and cupped Ray's face before leaning in and pressing his lips to Ray's.

 

Option two then, he guessed, as he wrapped his arms around Fraser's warm, smooth back and kissed him back.

 

*****

 

So after that, things pretty much went back to normal. Ray drove the sled more than half of the time now, and he was getting really good with the dogs; they were almost anticipating his movements, his directions. Maybe he glanced over at Fraser on the snowshoes a couple hundred more times than he usually did, and maybe Fraser smiled those huge smiles at him pretty much constantly now.

 

And, yeah, they ended each night the same as they always did, except the sleeping bags never got unzipped, and Fraser murmured words into Ray's skin every night. Sometimes, when Ray was sitting on the sled and Fraser was driving, Ray touched the marks Fraser had left on his skin with his fingertips. It was almost as if Fraser had gone wild out here.

 

They never talked about any of it, though, not once.

It was like, one day they were buddies and sleeping in their separate sleeping bags and talking every night, then Ray went and almost got himself killed, and now they were having sex every night and they weren’t talking about anything and Ray thought that he might be going crazy from the snow.

 

Still, Fraser looked at him over the fire while they ate dinner, and, more often than not, Ray would feel his face getting hot, because there was all kinds of intent in that look, and Fraser never wasted more than a few minutes once they were in the tent for the night to shed his clothes and slide into the sleeping bag next to Ray, making Ray forget that they definitely were _not_ talking.

 

They did everything over the next few weeks, the days getting lighter. They were traveling more hours every day, and even though Ray thought he'd never been so exhausted in his entire life from snowshoeing alongside the sled for eight hours, he still pulled Fraser close to him when they were done for the night, still found Fraser's warm, chapped lips with his.

 

Ray was sorry that they'd figured this out in middle of nowhere with no real bed or _heat_ for that matter, but they'd done pretty much everything they could do without freezing off any important parts, and while staying inside of a sleeping bag. He had fantasies during the day of getting Fraser somewhere warm and soft and stripping him down, being able to finally look at him and take him all in. He hadn't even really seen Fraser's dick, just gotten his hands on it, felt it rubbing against his, Fraser on top of him and breathing hot and heavy into his ear.

 

Ray was totally good with the sex, and falling asleep and waking up with Fraser wrapped around him, but it only took a couple of weeks for him to start to panic.

 

See, as far as he could remember, Fraser had taken three months leave before they took off, and Ray had told Welsh something similar, if not more open-ended. And after that time was up, Fraser would start being a Mountie again, only this time in Canada, and Ray had no fucking clue what that meant for him. Chicago was Ray's home, and had been his whole entire life, but when he tried to remember all the good things, the reasons he wanted to go home, he couldn't think of any that were bigger than Fraser.

 

And Ray had been counting, as much as you could when every day was the same as the one before, but he was pretty sure they'd been out here for about ten weeks. He knew Fraser well enough to know that he had some crazy RCMP internal calendar, and was probably directing them to end up where his posting was. Fraser wasn't saying anything, but he looked happy, smiling at Ray and bumping up against him when they were setting up camp for the night and laughing and whispering into his neck when his hand was wrapped around Ray's cock. It kind of seemed like he wasn’t anxious to ship Ray back to Chicago.

 

Ray smiled back each time, but inside it was fucking killing him, because he didn't know if Fraser would ask him to stay, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to go. Not after this.

 

So he counted down every time Fraser kissed him, his tongue pushing against Ray's lips, his hands on the back of Ray's neck. Every time Fraser told him that he was good, beautiful, hot, every time Fraser's fingers brushed his skin in the dark.

 

*****

 

Ray couldn't remember if the last two weeks was up in three or four days, and was laying there in the sleeping bag with Fraser, trying not to freak the fuck out when Fraser said, "I think we're about two days west of Inuvik, by my calculations."

 

Ray swallowed down the lump in his throat and willed his voice to be normal when he opened his mouth. "Yeah?"

 

"Well, I'm sure you've realized that we're not going to find the Hand of Franklin."

 

"I kind of figured that, yeah." Fraser pulled him a little closer in his arms.

 

"My leave time is almost up, and I should check in. Are you ready to stop? It's April, and the ice will only hold for certain for a few more weeks."

 

Ray's whole body hurt and he was pretty much constantly freezing and had been for three months, but, god, there was a part of him that never wanted to stop, that could stay out there for three more months, three more _years_, if it meant he wouldn't have to leave Fraser. But if every day on the trail was just leading up to the end, getting to Inuvik _was_ the end.

They'd get there and Fraser would shake his hand, and maybe they'd have sex one more time, for the road, and then Ray would get on a plane to Chicago, back to his worthless fucking not-even-a-life there, and Fraser would be a happy, red-faced Mountie in the north. And Ray would be miserable.

 

"Sure, Frase. Sounds good. It’ll be good to sleep someplace dry and warm. Eat something that's not oatmeal or pemmican. They got pizza in Inuvik? Chinese?"

 

Fraser laughed into Ray's neck, and Ray held onto him, feeling the bottom of his stomach drop out. "Peking Garden, Ray," he said.

 

"It's a regular metropolis, huh?" That made Fraser laugh even harder.

 

Not even _that_ made Ray feel a damn bit better. And he was pretty sure the Chinese food in the northwest corner of hell was pretty awful anyway.

 

*****

 

Fraser let Ray drive the sled for the last two days. Ray figured it was just Fraser being nice, giving him the reins because he didn't live here and might never get to drive a dogsled ever again. Dief was up at lead, and Ray watched the ice and the snow go by and tried to focus on Fraser out of the corner of his eye, tried so hard not to think about the next part. The part where he left.

 

Fraser, on the other hand, seemed to be in an even better mood, chatting all day about all of the things in town he wanted to show Ray, how this wasn't like the other small settlements they'd encountered along the way. Inuvik was a real town. The detachment there had thirteen Mounties working the area. Ray tried to listen; Fraser seemed so damn excited to show him this place, somewhere that held some memories from his childhood, but inside Ray was dying. So, he just let Fraser talk and let it wash over him, the sound and rhythm of Fraser's voice. Ray was really going to miss this part.

 

It was halfway through the second day when they came up over a small hill, and Ray could see it, way out on the horizon. Fraser was right, it was practically the Chicago of the freaking Northwest Areas, houses and buildings stretched out along the winding blue of the river.

 

Ray called the dogs to a stop, Dief standing at the head of the line, tongue wagging. "How long?" Fraser was standing to the side, and he looked like he was just taking it in. He didn't answer for a moment, then turned his head. God, that fucking smile again.

 

"Pardon?"

 

"How long until we get there, Fraser?"

 

"I think by this time tomorrow."

 

Fucking great. Fucking Inuvik. It was everything that was wrong with his life, and he kind of hated the place even though he'd never been there.

 

Fraser didn't move to leave, so Ray stood up and clasped his shoulder. He swore he could feel Fraser's warmth through the about five layers of wool and fur. "Let's get cracking then."

 

Fraser turned and put his mittened hand on Ray's face. "Yes. Yes, indeed." And they were off.

 

*****

 

Fraser was right, as usual, which was pretty annoying. They pulled the sled into the outskirts of town in the afternoon the next day, Fraser driving this time, because he at least knew where the hell they were going. Ray took off the snowshoes and walked on a concrete sidewalk (he'd never expected that to feel so good), where the snow had been cleared, as Fraser guided the sled down a road called Ookpik Street. Right.

 

"Where to?" Ray said. He saw someone coming out of one of the row houses across the street, and it was kind of shocking to see another human being. Ray'd lived packed in with other people his whole life, but he'd gotten used to it just being him and Fraser and no one else in the whole world but the dogs.

 

"Well, I think we should find someplace to board the dogs, then perhaps a hotel room?" Dief whined indignantly when he heard "board" and "dogs." "Not you, Diefenbaker, of course. You can stay at the hotel." Dief barked in approval.

 

"Okay." So Fraser led them through the streets of the town, and Ray started seeing some more people, and these huge fucking pipe things between the houses. He must have stared, because Fraser launched into a whole explanation about the function of utilidors in an Arctic climate, and that pretty much killed the time all the way to Mackenzie Road. And the Eskimo Inn. He could see a huge igloo with a cross on the top - was that a _church_? - down the road. Fraser stopped in front of a small building that looked like a convenience store or something, and pulled off his gloves and went in.

 

Ray waited, noticing that there was a pretty large pub of some kind (one point for Inuvik, he admitted grudgingly) down the road in the other direction. Dief whuffed, and Ray reached down to run his gloved hands along Dief's head. After a few minutes, Fraser came out of the door, a small, squat man following him and shaking Fraser’s hand.

 

"Jack will take the dogs for now, at least until we get settled," Fraser said, unhitching Dief from the rest of the team. Ray felt suddenly sad, like this might be well and truly over, and he said a quick goodbye to each of the dogs, taking an extra few seconds for the one with the dark fur and the scratch on her muzzle, who had a pretty big fucking attitude. She was a bitch, and she was Ray's favorite. Jack nodded at Ray when he was done, and led the dogs out back.

 

Ray was in a pissy mood by the time they got to the hotel, a basic hotel, just like any place you might stay at when you were a kid and taking road trip with your family or something, and Ray was pretty sure he'd spent too much time with Fraser when he thought _Inuit_ instead of Eskimo when he saw the sign outside.

 

Fraser greeted the girl at the front desk when they got inside, and Ray was impressed that she didn't look at them like they were crazy. Ray was pretty sure that they both looked like the Unabomber or something, since they hadn't shaved or gotten haircuts or done any personal grooming since they left Frobisher, three months ago. Maybe she saw lots of guys who'd been out on the ice for weeks at a time, and they were just like any of them.

 

Ray stood back a little while Fraser got them a room and slid some of that monopoly money across the counter. He felt a knot in the pit of his stomach, because he was _finally_, god, after all these weeks, going to get Fraser alone, in a warm room with pillows and sheets and a bed. And, Jesus, a _shower_ even. But he couldn't stop thinking that, yeah, they were going to have sex - warm, luxurious sex, for a long time, hopefully - but Ray was sure it was one of the last times that they ever _would_ unless he figured out if Fraser’s smiles and warm hands meant something like asking Ray to stay.

Ray knew he should probably just ask himself, but he _couldn’t_, he just couldn’t. He’d spent years asking Stella to stay until she finally couldn’t stand it anymore.

He wouldn’t do that to Fraser, wouldn’t trap him into saying yes to something that he maybe didn’t want. Ray didn’t want to find out in ten years that none of this was what Fraser had wanted, all along.

 

When he tuned back in, it seemed that Fraser was just making small talk. Maybe he was trying to sweet-talk her into letting Dief in the room, or maybe he just missed having someone other than Ray to talk to, after all that time. Ray moved forward and put his hands on the cool Formica countertop and looked at the girl. "Hey, what day is it?" He realized he had no fucking clue. They hadn't kept track of the days of the week since the second week out.

 

She smiled ("Katie," her nametag said), her white teeth flashing, her sleek, dark hair pulled back from her face. "Sunday."

 

"Yeah, okay, good. Good." His voice sounded strange, and it was almost like he'd forgotten how to talk to anyone but Fraser.

 

"Have a nice stay," Katie said, sliding the key with the big, red plastic keychain with "8D" stamped on it across the counter, into Fraser's hand. "It's outside, up the stairs, and to the left."

 

*****

 

Fraser dropped the bags inside the door, Dief trotting in ahead of them and instantly plopping down in front of the heater. Ray clicked the door shut behind him, dropping his own things on top of Fraser's. He was at a loss with what to do with his hands, now that there weren't reins or tent poles, or even Fraser, underneath them.

 

Fraser moved into the room, stripping off his heavy fur parka and putting it on a hanger in the closet. He reached his hand out, his face soft and his mouth turned up, just slightly, for Ray's coat. Ray took it off, and felt about a million pounds lighter. And _god_, it was so fucking warm in the room, the heat on full-blast, and Ray was stripping his outer layers, sighing and feeling like he was halfway to himself again. It was amazing how much he appreciated the simple things, things he never thought about when he was in Chicago. Being able to get completely naked. Being able to be _warm_.

 

When he looked up, he noticed that Fraser was down to his Henley and boxers. His beard was thick, and Ray had a sudden, overwhelming desire to see his face, to get down underneath everything to his skin.

 

"Fraser -" he said, stopping when he realized that he had no fucking clue what he wanted to say. "You want the first shower?"

 

"Only if you're sure," Fraser answered, moving closer to Ray.

 

"Yeah. Go ahead, knock yourself out. Just leave me some hot water, okay?"

 

Fraser was close, so close, and he brushed his lips against Ray's. "Understood, Ray," he said against Ray's lips, before pushing off and heading into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

 

Ray walked over to the mirror over the dresser and _holy shit_, he looked worse than he thought. His beard was seriously scary-looking, and his hair was long and curling over the collar of his shirt. His skin was red from the wind on the sled. He'd expected that he didn't look fantastic, but wow. He was surprised that him and Fraser hadn't scared any small children on their way through town.

Ray heard the shower turn off a few minutes later, and he was still in front of the mirror, just taking himself in, waiting for Fraser to finish. He looked like himself underneath all of it, but he felt really different. He'd been different since he took the Vecchio gig, since the day Fraser walked into the station and Ray realized that tall, dark, and handsome Mounties apparently turned his crank, but he couldn't seem to find his words anymore, for anything, and he _looked_ different, more _still_ somehow.

 

The door to the bathroom swung open, and Fraser walked out, freshly shaven, towel around his waist, and Ray felt all the blood in his body rush to his cock, just at the sight of the wide expanse of Fraser's chest. He looked, well – thin, but fit and good and – yeah.

Yeah, he looked good. Fraser smiled at him, brushing past him as Ray walked into the bathroom.

 

God, the _shower_. The hot, pounding spray on his back was better than sex (well, okay, not quite, but pretty fucking amazing after months of washing with snow), and he washed his hair and his skin a half a dozen times, letting the weeks on the sled slide off and down the drain, before shutting off the water and stepping out into the steamy room.

 

Fraser, being _Fraser_, had left a shaving kit next to the sink, and Ray wrapped a soft, white towel around his waist and started to trim back his beard, watching the hair disappear into the sink, his face emerging. He picked up the shaving cream and lathered up, then ran the sharp razor along the planes of his face. He recognized himself again, his face bare and his cheeks still red from the cold and wind.

 

He looked almost like he had back in Chicago.

 

His hair was a fucking mess, and was completely unsalvageable until he could get it cut, so he ran his fingers through it and settled with it slicked back and off his face for the moment.

 

When he left the bathroom, Fraser was still just wearing the towel, leaning over the bed and sorting through their clothes, clearly trying to figure out if anything was not worth keeping or could be mended, and what they needed to get washed so they had something to wear. Ray saw two sets of clothes set out on the end of the bed, probably the last clean - or at least semi-clean - things they had left in their bags. Fraser's back was pale and smooth, and Ray was definitely seeing more muscles in his back than there had been in Chicago, the few times Ray had seen Fraser without his shirt on. Ray ran his hand down his own stomach, and yeah, his body had changed too. Still a skinny Polack, but the hard work had seemed to rub off on him, just like it had on Fraser.

 

Ray walked up behind Fraser and rested his hands on Fraser’s hips, which were _warm_ and soft under his palms. "Hey."

 

Fraser pushed back, and Ray tucked his chin over Fraser's shoulder. "Hello, Ray." He gestured at the clothes laid out on the bed. "There's a washer and dryer downstairs, so I thought I'd take these. Get us some clean things to wear."

 

"Sounds good," Ray said, mouthing Fraser's ear. Fraser moaned and Ray grabbed his arms and turned him around. Fraser's arms were around him and he was pulling Ray close and kissing him, no fucking pretense, Fraser's tongue pushing into his mouth and making his knees weak. Ray'd waited for weeks, years even, to get Fraser like this, and he wasn't going to screw it up by thinking about anything but fucking Fraser, so good and so long. They stood there, wrapped around each other, kissing like they had all the time in the world when they both knew they didn't. It was pretty much the best thing ever to kiss Fraser's soft lips, and not be freezing, not have to worry about leaving his hands out for too long if he cupped Fraser's face when they kissed. Ray ran his hands up and down Fraser's sides, and Fraser finally broke away, gasping. "God, Ray."

 

Ray pushed Fraser down gently on his back, on top of the piles of clothes, and Fraser reached his arms out to sweep the neatly folded piles onto the carpet.

Fraser was smiling, but there was heat behind it, and Ray smiled back and leaned forward, hooking his fingertips into Fraser's towel and pulling it loose.

 

Ray was on his knees on the bed, and he took a moment, just pressing his palm to Fraser's chest and taking him in. Fraser was unbelievably fucking gorgeous, his mouth a little red and swollen, his hair soft and longer than he ever wore it before, his – wow, yeah, pretty big – cock getting hard against his thigh, leaking a little. Damn. Ray licked his lips and climbed up Fraser's body, fitting them together so that they were touching from their feet up to their lips, and then they were kissing again, a little hotter, a little more frantic, Ray feeling the sharp edges of Fraser's teeth on his lips. Fraser was making soft, encouraging noises into Ray's mouth, which just ratcheted him up a few more notches, pressing down hard against Fraser's cock, feeling the wetness smear against his thigh.

 

Fraser's hands were gripping his hair, almost hard enough to hurt, holding Ray close to his mouth and just fucking his tongue deep and steady into Ray's open mouth, and this was nothing like the sex they'd had out there, in the tent. That had been quick and frantic, even though there was no rush, no one else around. Clothes mostly still on, hands tucked inside sleeping bags, the edge of survival taking the ease out of it. But now, there was a fucking bed and _no_ clothes (well, except the ones under Fraser's ass) and heat churning out of the heater, and, god, there were _walls_, and everything was melting and slowing down. Ray wanted to learn Fraser. Every bit of him. So he could remember.

 

Ray must have been distracted by the fantastic kissing, because Fraser got enough leverage with his legs to flip them over, pinning Ray down on the bed with his solid body. Ray could feel the buttons from a pair of jeans digging into his lower back, but Fraser was kissing down his chest and his stomach and pushing off the towel, and he couldn't bring himself to care anymore, not with Fraser's breath warm and hot against his dick. "Jesus, Fraser," he gasped out, as Fraser took him into his mouth.

 

Fraser wrapped one firm hand around the base of Ray's cock and put the other one on Ray's belly, his lips meeting his fist every time he moved his mouth down. There was no feasible way to do this in a sleeping bag without someone's feet hanging out and getting frostbitten, or someone smothering to death, but Ray had thought about it _a lot_. He fisted his hands in the cheap bedspread and hung on, letting Fraser set the pace. Fraser's mouth was hot and wet, and he was hollowing out his cheeks to make it tighter, and Ray threw his head back on the bed.

 

"Yeah, Fraser, please," he managed, and Fraser's hand left his belly and was fumbling through the clothes at Ray's side. Ray groaned when Fraser pulled his mouth off Ray's dick, but when he heard the sound of a cap popping open, he thought twice about being pissed off.

 

He lifted his head and tried to look pissed, but, holy shit, Fraser had lube? From where? "Jesus, Fraser, you planned this? Where the hell did you get that?" He was panting a little, still trying to catch his breath.

 

Fraser's smile was absolutely wicked, and his eyes heavy-lidded. "Proper preparation, Ray," he said, before taking the head of Ray's dick into his mouth again, and yeah, okay, Fraser was properly prepared and that was good, that was fucking _great_. His finger was slick and pushing up and behind Ray's balls and pressing against his ass and he wanted to tell Fraser he loved him _so fucking much_ for bringing lube with him on a three-month trek through the Arctic, because it felt that good, getting finger-fucked on top of their clothes with his cock hitting the back of Fraser's throat.

 

"Please, god, please, fuck me," Ray was chanting, and Fraser picked up the pace, fucking him with three fingers now, stretching him, and Ray had to relax, let himself open up, because he hadn't done this in years, not since things had gone to shit with Stella and he was looking for some distraction. Fraser was relentless, stroking Ray's prostate over and over again with his fingertips. And that was it, that was fucking _it_. Ray was pushing his hips up and coming, pulsing into Fraser's mouth and coming around his fingers and he thought that he might actually die this time, coming his brains out into Fraser's mouth and thrashing around on the bed, knocking some more of the clothes on the floor.

 

Ray was pretty sure he might have lost some brain cells there, and he kind of wanted to savor the afterglow a bit, wallow, but Fraser was up and pushing Ray's legs back toward his chest and opening him up, and yeah, Fraser, come on, take it.

 

"Ray," Fraser said hoarsely. "Can I fuck you? Please, god -"

 

Jesus. Yeah. Like he hadn't been waiting for this moment since the first time Fraser put his hand on Ray's dick after he fell into the ice crevasse, and he wanted it, wanted Fraser inside him, fucking him.

 

Ray let out a long, keening moan as Fraser pushed into him, showing no goddamn mercy at all, just one long, slow slide into Ray's ass, practically splitting him open, and it was so good, so good. He was breathing deep and trying to relax, and he could feel himself getting hard again, like some kind of fucking teenager. "Come on," he hissed, digging his fingernails into Fraser's back, making Fraser gasp. "Come on, Fraser."

 

Fraser looked up at Ray, their eyes locking, and Fraser had a wild look in his eyes, like he wanted to fuck Ray back through the wall, which really didn't sound like such a terrible idea. Ray dug his fingernails in a little harder, trying to tell Fraser that he wanted whatever Fraser wanted to give him. Fraser's eyes shuttered closed, and he pulled out, excruciatingly slow, before slamming in and bending Ray practically in half, making Ray see white spots behind his eyes.

 

_Yeah._

 

It was like something in Fraser broke, and he was fucking Ray, so good, so hard, making his back skid on the bedspread and his thighs ache from being pressed up like that. Fraser was grunting every time he bottomed out in Ray's ass, and Ray was murmuring to him, what was probably nonsense but he might have been telling Fraser that, god, he fucking loved him, so much. He couldn't think straight with the hot pleasure-pain of Fraser sliding into his ass, over and over again, and he fisted one hand in the bedspread and held on.

 

Fraser's rhythm went off completely, and he was thrusting, faster and shallower than before. "Ray - Ray, I love you so much," he whispered kissed the side of Ray's neck, and Ray was coming _again_, all over Fraser and himself, and Fraser thrust a few more times and then came with a loud moan, spurting hot and hard into Ray's ass, collapsing onto Ray's chest.

 

Ray unclasped his shaky hand from the bedspread and stroked Fraser's soft, still-damp hair from his forehead, where Fraser was resting on his chest. Fraser's breath steadied and he rolled to the side, draping his leg over Ray's knees. Ray turned on his side to face him.

 

"Where the hell did you get lube, Fraser? It's not like we passed a 7-11 out of the ice or anything." He thought he might be able to let it go, but Fraser had shocked the hell out of him, and he had to know.

 

Fraser laughed. "I should have known you wouldn't forget that."

 

"Well?"

 

"I, uh," Fraser paused. "I brought it with me from Chicago. Wishful thinking, I suppose." Jesus. From Chicago? Which meant that Fraser - _god_, Fraser had wanted to do this, with Ray, since before Fraser was at home again and happy. Fucking Fraser, who couldn't have put Ray out of his misery months ago and just said something, couldn't have just told Ray he had feelings for him before Ray drove himself insane. Ray grabbed the nearest pillow with his hand that wasn't pinned underneath Fraser, and hit him square on the head.

 

"Ray!"

 

"You _suck_, Fraser, so hard. Next time, tell a guy that you want to fuck him before you get him up to the north end of nowhere, okay?" He tried to sound mad, because he could _kill_ Fraser for that, but he couldn’t make it sound as threatening as he wanted to.

 

"Understood." Fraser threw the pillow back at Ray and settled down, his head on Ray's belly.

 

"Freak," Ray said, looking up, tracing the cracks in the ceiling with his eyes. His stomach rumbled, and Fraser pushed his nose into Ray's skin, kissing him there impossibly softly, before turning to reach for the phone receiver and dial a number. Ray's eyes were closed when he heard Fraser ordering a really long list of stuff. In something that sounded like Chinese.

Peking Garden, he guessed. He was going to find out if Inuvik could do a decent General Tso's.

MONDAY

Ray woke up in the bright sunlight, which was hard to get used to after the almost complete darkness they'd had at the beginning of the trip mostly because he realized Fraser wasn't in bed anymore. When he blinked open his eyes and let them adjust to the lack of light in the room, he saw that Fraser had stacked up piles of clean laundry on the dresser, flannel shirts and jeans and long underwear and Henleys.

Ray sat up slowly, clutching the sheet around his waist. "Good morning." God, he'd slept in a _bed_, and he couldn't remember ever sleeping so well in his entire life.

Fraser was wearing a red flannel shirt and a pair of jeans, and he spun around to look at Ray. "Good morning. I didn't wake you, did I?"

"No, no, I just noticed you were gone, that's all." And Ray could swear that Fraser blushed when Ray said that, and it was kind of cute, that Ray could make Fraser turn red like that, just by missing him.

"Ah, I see." Fraser sounded a bit flustered, and turned back around to pair up some of their thick, wool socks.

Ray smiled at his back, then stretched his arms up over his head and groaned. “What time is it anyway?"

"Eight."

Ray didn't know what to do next. Was he supposed to just follow Fraser's lead, or should he offer to book his tickets back to Chicago now, or what? He didn't _want_ to go back to Chicago, not yet, not really so much at all, so Fraser was going to have to ask him to leave if he wanted him to go. The ball was in his court, and Ray wasn't going to let him off the hook. No way.

"What's on the agenda for today?"

"Well, I need to check in at the detachment today, meet with the Sergeant and discuss the details of my employment there. I should do that this morning, I think." Fraser opened the drawer and started putting their clothes away, Ray's shirts next to Fraser's, their socks mixed together.

"Okay," Ray said, stifling a yawn. He could feel the bed calling back to him, and he wasn't sure he'd ever get tired of just staying in bed and sleeping and having sex with Fraser. _Ever_. "I think I might stay here, get some more sleep. I feel like I'm making up for three months of sleeping on the ground, you know?"

Fraser shut the drawer and walked toward the bed, sitting down on the edge next to Ray. "I understand completely. It was quite the welcome luxury last night. For a number of reasons." Fraser's gaze turned hot, and Ray reached out to clasp the back of Fraser's neck.

"Yeah. I know what you mean."

They stayed that way, looking at each other, Ray's hand absently stroking the soft curls at the back of Fraser’s neck. Fraser reached out to twine his fingers and those on Ray’s other hand together. Then Fraser moved, pushing Ray onto his back, cupping his face and kissing him hotly, and every good thing about the last night came flooding back, and Ray was pushing his rapidly-hardening cock into Fraser's flannel-covered belly. He had thought for a moment of protesting the kiss, because he had to have morning breath, but Fraser didn't seem to care, and, after all, he'd kissed him out on the snow where he wasn't always at his freshest, that's for damn sure.

Fraser finally pulled away. "I have to go. I'll be back soon, okay?" His voice was reluctant, and he pushed Ray's hair out of his eyes, kissing his forehead, and Ray thought he could hear the words that Fraser wasn't saying in that gesture.

Fraser was up and on his feet. "Diefenbaker, let's leave Ray in peace, shall we? I'm sure you'll be grateful for a little exercise." Dief whined in protest as he heaved himself off of the floor, making it clear that he'd been pulling a fucking sled for three months, thanks very much, but he followed Fraser anyway, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ray was asleep seconds later.

*****

Ray finally woke up about three hours later, rolling out of bed and savoring each clean, dry piece of clothing he put on, loving the way it felt not to be wearing a thousand layers at once. He pulled up the shades of the room and looked out onto the street. It seemed to be Inuvik's main street. It sure as hell wasn't Michigan Avenue, but there were more people on the street than he'd seen since he'd left Chicago.

When he turned back to the quiet room, he almost wished that Fraser had left Dief behind. As weird as it was to be talking to people other than Fraser after so long, it was even weirder to be alone, because he'd spent every single second of those months with Fraser. Being with Fraser was almost like breathing.

As if on cue, the door opened and Fraser walked into the room, Dief trotting in ahead of him and coming up to nudge his cold, wet nose against Ray's palm. "Hey, buddy," Ray said, leaning forward to scratch behind Dief's ears. "How'd it go, Fraser?"

Fraser walked closer and Dief, who had clearly had enough, went back to his position in front of the heater. "It went well. Really, surprisingly well. They'd heard I would be coming to work here at some point soon, and seem to be quite enthusiastic to have me. Which is, compared to most of my experiences in the RCMP, quite unique. I'll be going in mornings this week, just to get acquainted with the detachment and the work they do, meet the staff and so on. I'll start full-time next week."

"That's great. Really, really great," Ray said, and muffled a half-hearted protest when Fraser leaned down to where Ray was sitting at the foot of the bed and wrapped his arms around Ray's waist, pulling him close, burying his nose in Ray's hair. "What - hey. Hey."

"Hi," Fraser said softly, brushing his lips against Ray's ear, before stepping back. "Let's go grab something to eat. I have a meeting at one, will you come with me?"

Ray nodded and pulled Fraser close again.

*****

They had a pretty decent meal at one of the restaurants a few doors down from the hotel, and Ray reveled in having a full stomach. He never thought he'd miss vegetables since he never ate much of them before, but he actually ordered a salad and ate every bite, scowling at Fraser when he teased him about his apparent new culinary habits.

After lunch, Fraser lead Ray down the street, to a short building with a hand-painted sign that read "Cindy Tingmiak, Arctic Realty." Okay. Fraser was looking for a place to live. Made sense.

When they got inside, they were greeted near the front door by a short, heavy-set woman, her long, dark hair twisted on her head. She looked to be right around the same age as Ray and Fraser, maybe a few years older. She reminded Ray of his mother.

"Hello, hello! Oh my, you must be Constable Fraser. I'm Cindy Tingmiak, it's a pleasure." Cindy reached forward to shake both of their hands vigorously, not stopping her train of thought at all. "The folks down at the detachment told me all about you. We heard about the submarine up here. That was just something, wasn't it? You must be Ray Kowalski. I read all about you both in the newspaper, Mr. Kowalski, saw it on the TV news from Yellowknife."

"Uh, yeah, that's me. Hi. You can call me Ray." Wow. He had no idea that they made the _news_. He thought they didn't get cable out in the ass-end of nowhere.

"Well, excellent! I'm so excited! Constable, Ray, let's go into my office and we can get this started."

Ray and Fraser followed Cindy into a small, cramped office off the main room. The desk was cluttered and there were coffee cups all over the place (which explained why she was so hyper). She sat down in her chair and started shuffling through files and papers as they sat down in front of the desk. Finally, she looked up.

"Okay. So. We're trying to find you a place to live, right?"

Fraser cleared his throat. "Yes. I will be starting full-time at the detachment next week, and meanwhile staying over at the Eskimo Inn. I'd like to find permanent accommodations as soon as possible."

Ray watched as Cindy nodded and then opened the file on the top. "And you're looking to buy, correct?"

"Yes."

Whoa, wait a minute. Fraser was going to buy a house? Granted, Ray had never known Fraser to live anywhere but his office in the Consulate, but he hadn't figured Fraser for the homeowner type. Guess he was ready to put down roots somewhere.

"Great, okay, well. You told me your price range over the phone, and I have a number of listings that I'd like you to see, that I could set up for you to take a look at this week. Does that sound good?"

"Yes, that sounds perfect," Fraser answered, and Ray's heart was in his fucking throat, because now, he was going to have to spend any time between now and when he inevitably went back to Chicago Fraser-less looking at fucking houses with Fraser. A house Fraser would live in when Ray was gone. A house where he might – be with someone else, because he sure didn’t say he wanted to be there with Ray. Fuck.

"All right, Constable. We'll go see a couple of properties tomorrow afternoon. Let me write down the addresses for you," Cindy said as she frantically scribbled two addresses on a piece of paper she grabbed out of the printer. "So, I'll see you boys there tomorrow? I'm sure we'll be able to find a home for you in no time at all."

Fraser was up and on his feet, and Ray followed, his knees a bit unsteady. He hadn't been quite ready for this. "It's been a pleasure, Ms. Tingmiak."

"Oh please, it's Cindy," she said, laughing and extending her hand, first to Fraser, and then to Ray. "And it's entirely my pleasure. I'll see you tomorrow."

*****

Ray was down on his knees, the soft carpet underneath. He had his hands firmly planted on Fraser's thighs, and Fraser was making all kinds of noises and begging, asking Ray to let him come already, but Ray wasn't having it. This was going to go at his pace, the way he wanted, the way nothing else about this entire fucking situation was going. He was going to take it slow and enjoy being warm and naked and not ten seconds away from frostbite.

It felt like they'd been doing this forever, Fraser's cock sliding over and over down Ray's throat, his hands fisted in Ray's hair, tugging hard when Ray brought him close to the edge, and then letting go a bit when Ray backed off and let him come down. They'd been at this dance for a while now, and Ray's jaw hurt, but he was cataloging away every single thing: his lips stretched around Fraser, the sharp sting of Fraser's fingers in his hair, the way Fraser sounded when Ray ran his tongue along the underside of his dick.

His knees were killing him, and Fraser's moans had turned into a steady chant of "god, please, Ray," over and over again. Ray's cock was painfully hard inside his jeans, and he moved one hand off of Fraser's strong, tense thigh to unbutton and take himself in his hand, stroking himself roughly, his hand moving fast and hard.

His orgasm took him almost by surprise; he hadn't realized how close to coming he'd been just from being on his knees on the floor giving Fraser head, and he moaned around width of Fraser's dick in his mouth. Fraser grasped the back of Ray’s head a little too hard and started thrusting, and then he was coming, pulling Ray's head down and coming in long, hot spurts down Ray's throat, not being polite at all. Ray liked Fraser like this, in charge and taking what he wanted. The way no one else got see him. Ray swallowed, over and over, until Fraser pulled him gently off. Ray rested his head on Fraser's thigh and listened to his harsh breath, before Fraser was tugging him up, face to face.

"Ray, you - I don't know what I did to deserve you." Fraser kissed him hard, licking his own taste out of Ray's mouth, which was incredibly hot, and Ray could feel himself starting to - impossibly - get hard again. Goddamn. He wanted to say something, wanted to ask Fraser what the hell they were doing, wanted Fraser to say the words Ray wanted to hear, but instead, he grabbed Fraser's hand and wrapped Fraser's fingers around his dick, and got them going all over again.

TUESDAY

Ray woke up with the taste of beef and broccoli still on his tongue. After the blowjob, Fraser had ordered a feast from Peking Garden the night before, and they'd eaten every last bit. It was actually pretty good, nothing like Mei Wai, a couple of blocks from the station, but decent and cheap and they were pretty much the only place in town that delivered, so it worked for them.

Ray had eaten the last of his beef and broccoli when Fraser took the white paper container from his hands and carefully placed it on the floor, before pushing Ray into the pillows and kissing him. Fraser tasted like cold sesame noodles and tea, and they fell asleep after Fraser wrapped his big hand around both of their cocks and they came all over each other.

When Ray looked up, Fraser was sitting on the bed, his hand reaching out to Ray's face. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Ray said, leaning forward to push his cheek into Fraser's hand. "You heading out already?"

Fraser's thumb stroked Ray's jaw, against Ray's stubble. "Yes, I have several meetings and things to attend to this morning before we meet Cindy."

"Okay."

Fraser moved his hand away and stood up, kissing Ray almost sweetly and pushing his hair off his forehead. "I'll see you for lunch?" he said against Ray's lips.

"Yeah," Ray whispered back, and Fraser was up and out of the door, leaving Diefenbaker behind this time.

Ray sighed and flopped back down on the bed, feeling like some kind of fucking housewife, sitting here and waiting for his Mountie husband to come home at the end of the day. Except this was a hotel room, Fraser was buying a goddamn _house_, and he was pretty sure a wolf never made it into any of those fifties clichés.

Ray hauled himself out of the bed and dressed, probably way too lightly for the still-bitter weather, but Fraser wasn't there to give him a fucking lecture about it and he really couldn't bring himself to feel that many layers between him and the outside. Not anymore. He coaxed Dief out of the room, with the promise of a donut if they actually _had_ them in this godforsaken place, and they set out from the hotel along Mackenzie.

He'd figured out over the past few days that Mackenzie was Inuvik's main drag, where the church and most of the restaurants and the hotels were. Cindy's office was a couple of blocks down. He didn't even know what to make of this place, this town in the middle of fucking nowhere that was more like a real place to live than any of the tiny settlements that they'd passed on the trail. It seemed like some kind of bizarre combination of him and Fraser that added up to a place that Ray wasn’t sure either of them could ever really be happy in. Fraser _seemed_ happy – he was buying a house after all – but Ray always pictured him settling out on the tundra, out on the ice and snow, in his dad’s cabin maybe. Not in this weird semi-town with fucking pipes above the ground and an igloo church and a decent Chinese restaurant. They even had cable here. It didn't make one damn bit of sense.

Ray walked, nodding to people as he passed them, until he came to a window that advertised "Dave's Barber Shop," and he remembered Fraser's hands in his hair that morning, and he knew that this was just what he needed. What would make him feel like himself again, make him ready, at least somewhat, to go back to his life.

A bell rang as Ray entered the shop, after arguing with Dief that he did in fact need to stay outside, and a tall, burly guy with short blond hair jumped out of one of the chairs to greet him. He held out his hand, "Dave Sullivan, nice to meet you."

Ray shook his hand. "Ray Kowalski."

"Oh!" Dave looked surprised and pleased. "You're the new Constable's, uh, friend from the States, right?" Shit. Wow. Apparently _everyone_ had seen the news. Or Cindy had a big fucking mouth. Ray was going with option two.

"Yeah, yeah. Fraser and I were partners back in Chicago." And they seemed to be something else entirely now, but that was beside the point.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Ray. What can I do for you?"

Ray sat down in the chair, and told Dave to take the sides up, leave the top long enough that he could stand it up. He could tell Dave wanted to laugh, could hear the smile in his voice. He had probably never cut a guy's hair like this before, but he didn't say anything. He just chatted about the weather (apparently unseasonably warm, like you could tell) and his wife's mother and the new pick-up hockey league down at the rink, and didn't ask Ray too many questions. When he was done, he spun Ray's chair around, and, god, he looked like _him_ again. It felt good, and as he got up out of the chair, he pulled a nice, crisp, American twenty out of his pocket and left it as the tip.

*****

When Ray opened the door to the room, he saw the big red light flashing on the phone, and when he finally figured out from the shitty instructions how to check the damn messages in the first place, he heard Fraser's voice over the line, telling him that he was held up at the detachment, he would grab lunch and meet Ray at Cindy's office.

Ray lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, and he was starting to make out some definite shapes in the cracks up there after spending so much time looking at it. He could swear he saw a musk ox.

At one, he took the short walk down the street to Cindy's office and saw Fraser, Stetson in hand, standing on the sidewalk with Cindy, whose hair was stuck to her head with a couple of pencils, it looked like, and was wearing a hot pink suit. Cindy was pretty much awesome, in Ray's book.

When Fraser turned to see Ray walking toward them, his face lit up, and it was like Fraser was taking out a billboard on Mackenzie that said "Ray Kowalski is my gay lover." Jesus. Ray stuffed his hands in his pockets and ducked his head a little.

"Your hair," Fraser said, reaching his hand up and brushing his fingers through the spikes (yeah, they had hair gel up here too, go figure), making Ray feel like Fraser had tried to make out with him in the middle of the street.

"Yeah, couldn't stand it anymore – just needed to feel like me again."

Fraser nodded, and then Cindy was bustling around them and herding them off, down the street.

Cindy took them to some row houses a couple of blocks over, different colored tall, skinny things all smushed together. Nothing about them seemed much like Fraser, and Ray couldn't picture him there at all.

When they went inside, it was even worse. Cindy scurried ahead of them, trying to point out some of the features of the house, which, from what Ray could see, weren't much. It was really small, and cramped, which was probably just like home for Fraser, but Ray couldn't imagine that Fraser wanted to buy a house like _this_. Everything needed work, and there was no yard, and it was just all wrong.

Fraser didn't say much, just "hm" and "ah" every time Cindy said something. He ran his fingertips over the chipping counters in the kitchen, his patented Mountie straight face on, but Ray wasn't buying it. Fraser _hated_ the house.

Cindy then took them back over to Mackenzie, to another set of row houses, and, if it was even possible, this one was worse. First off, Ray could never, ever see Fraser living on the Main Street of anywhere, and this was one wasn't in very good shape. Everything looked like it needed a coat of paint or a refinish, and it was barely two bedrooms, if you could call the fucking closet on the second floor a bedroom. He and Fraser wandered upstairs, leaving Cindy on the first floor.

"Fraser, this place sucks."

"Ray -"

"Seriously. This isn't you. I can't see you living here and it's, well, it's kind of depressing. Please say you'll keep looking."

Fraser sighed deeply, reaching over to catch Ray's hand in his. His palm was warm and dry. "You're right. It is rather sad, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Ray said as Fraser pushed him gently up against the wall and mouthed his neck. "Fraser -"

"I wouldn't dream of buying something that you didn't like, Ray," Fraser whispered into Ray's ear, before kissing him hard and hot up against the wall that hadn't seen new paint in about a hundred years. Ray couldn’t figure out why Fraser would say something like that, why it mattered so much to him what Ray thought about his house, when he wasn’t asking Ray to live in it with him.

When they got downstairs, Fraser told Cindy that he wanted more space, he had a dog (well, a half-wolf actually), and that he was thinking in a bit of a different direction. Ray turned and put his fingers to his lips, trying to figure out what the fuck Fraser meant, while Cindy frantically took notes on a scrap of paper.

*****

Ray followed Fraser into the shower when they got back to the room, and they stripped and stepped under the hot stream, Ray taking a moment to appreciate the near-scalding water and the smooth skin of Fraser’s chest. Ray's hands slid easily over Fraser's wet skin, and he dipped his soap-covered fingers into the cleft of Fraser's ass. Fraser moaned into Ray's neck, and then kissed him, Fraser's tongue sliding into Ray's mouth, over and over again, and Ray tilted Fraser's head so that he could get a better angle. They stayed like that until the water got cold, then scrambled out, because Ray would be happy if he was never cold again.

They dried off in the bathroom and didn't even bother with towels in the room. Ray kissed Fraser next to the foot of the bed, long and slow, trying to tell Fraser how much he was going to miss this in the swipe of his tongue, the press of his lips. Ray had no idea what Fraser wanted, what he was trying to tell him. Maybe he wanted Ray to stay, or was making a place for him to come on vacation or something. He had no fucking clue, and there was no way he was going to be able to ask. To make Fraser ask him to stay if that wasn’t what he really wanted, if he was only doing it because Ray hadn’t given him any choice.

He spread Fraser out facedown on the bed. Fraser wasn't dried off completely, and he left wet spots on the floral bedspread that had been pulled up since Ray left earlier in the day. Ray ran his fingertips down Fraser's spine, watching him carefully as he writhed against the bed. When he leaned down and licked the path his fingers had just traced, moving further down and pushing his tongue against Fraser's ass, Fraser cried out.

Ray lifted his head. "Hey, you're going to piss off the neighbors."

Fraser pushed back with his hips and moaned, loudly. Ray knew Fraser well enough to know that it was on purpose. "I don't give a damn."

"Language," Ray murmured as he dipped his tongue back into Fraser's gorgeous ass, holding him open with his hands and licking him. Ray had never done this with anyone but Stella, who had liked to get a little kinky back before she stopped talking to him, but Fraser was an entirely different experience altogether. Ray worked him for a long time, tracing the edge of Fraser's hole with his tongue before pushing inside, which made Fraser buck and make some more of those ridiculously fucking hot noises.

"Ray, please, god, I can't - I want -" Fraser was breathless and could barely get out a word.

Ray reached his hand forward, sliding it underneath Fraser. Fraser was hard and leaking all over the bedspread. Ray fucked Fraser with his tongue relentlessly, feeling him open up slowly and his words became a steady wail. Finally, he moved his mouth away and grabbed Fraser's hips firmly. "Come on, Fraser, up."

"Yes, okay," Fraser gasped, struggling to get his knees underneath him, and, after reaching to the nightstand and tossing the lube in Ray's general direction, Fraser put his palms against the wall, sweaty and sliding on the wallpaper, and braced himself. Having Fraser begging and moving around like that had gotten Ray going in a major way, and he quickly slicked himself up and pushed the head of his cock against Fraser's hole. Fraser pushed back and Ray was moving too, and _fuck_ Fraser was tight, and Ray had to take a deep breath and slow down so that he didn't blow it (literally) before they even got started.

When he was finally buried in Fraser's sweet, tight ass, he started to move, and Fraser, god bless him, was right with Ray, pushing back on each hard, deep thrust that Ray made. "Ray."

"God, you look - so fucking good," Ray said, panting and catching his rhythm, moving his hips and stroking into Fraser's ass. He put one hand on Fraser's lower back, right on top of his scar, and changed the angle of his hips, just a bit. Fraser was crying out with each thrust now, and Ray was sure that they were going to have someone from the hotel office knocking on their door soon, but he couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop hearing his desperate sounds. Nothing had felt right like this in years, not even Stella, and he wished he had a clue if he’d get to keep having it or not, if that was what Fraser wanted.

Ray reached around and wrapped his fist around Fraser's cock, stroking him, and Fraser came all over Ray's hand and the bedspread with a groan, his ass bearing down on Ray's cock. Ray slowed down, moving slowly, just getting Fraser through it, before Fraser's breathing evened out. "Ray, that was -"

"Yeah, I got it. Right back at you." He stayed still and watched, almost in awe, as Fraser moved his upper body from where he'd slumped forward a little onto the wall while coming. Fraser's arms were straight in front of him and Ray watched the muscles in Fraser's arms tense and release, and felt Fraser open up and relax around him again. "Am I boring you?" Fraser asked, turning and flashing a sarcastic-as-hell smile at Ray. Ray grinned back.

"Hell, no." And with that, he reached up to grab Fraser's shoulder and stroked in, harder than before. Fraser lost a little bit of purchase on the wall, but he stayed up and took it.

"Yes," Fraser hissed, and Ray was slamming into him, pulling almost all the way out and pulling Fraser's whole body back onto his cock. Fraser was so good, so fucking gorgeous and _so_ hot and Ray felt he was coming apart when he emptied himself into Fraser's ass, fucking Fraser through his orgasm, Fraser's shoulder warm under his hand.

They collapsed on their sides, Ray still buried in Fraser's ass until he had to reach down and pull out. Fraser stayed up against him, his ass cradled against Ray's hips, and Ray slung his arm over Fraser and closed his eyes.

Ray was hungry, but Peking Garden seemed to be open pretty late.

WEDNESDAY

Ray woke up with Fraser, the light starting to come in the windows. It was early, Ray could tell, and it felt like one of the mornings out of the trail, getting woken up by the sun, his legs tangled with Fraser's.

"Good morning," Fraser said softly, and pulled him closer, and Ray rested his cheek on Fraser's chest and listened to his heart beat, easy and rhythmic through the skin and bone.

"It's early," Ray croaked, and he could feel Fraser's smile.

"I should get up," Fraser whispered, but he was rolling Ray over and draping himself, heavy and hard, over Ray's body, so Ray didn't think he was actually going to be getting up any time soon.

"Yeah." Ray pushed his hips against Fraser's, and Fraser growled and pushed off of him, going across the room to pull on his jeans and a shirt.

"We'll finish this later?" Fraser asked, his hair messy, with a really evil smile on his face. Ray couldn't help but smile back, even though _later_ was becoming increasingly hard to figure out.

Fraser came back over to the bed and leaned in for a hot, hungry kiss, and then broke away, adjusting himself in his jeans and turning for the door, shutting it softly behind him.

Ray looked up at the ceiling (there was definitely the outline of a sled dog up there, next to the polar bear) and seriously considered going back to sleep, but his mind was racing and he had to get the fuck out of the room. He felt like the walls were closing in on him, and he couldn't remember the dresser being so close to the bed the day before.

When he was up and dressed, he and Dief walked from the hotel, down a ways to the banks of the river. Fraser said it was just the east channel of the river, because they were in the delta this far north, but it still looked like a river to Ray. He sat down at the edge, pulling his knees to his chest, the wind whipping up cold and hard, and found a stick, throwing it down the length of the bank for Dief to catch.

God, he'd needed to get the hell out of that room and out of town, he felt like his head was clear for the first time since, well, since the day that he'd fallen into that stupid ice crevasse and everything had changed and started to be the best thing ever and kind of suck all at the same time. Fraser was smiling all of the time, and he couldn't keep his hands off Ray, but he wasn't fucking _saying_ anything. Inuvik was nothing that Ray wanted, but he'd done this before, been undercover, had to learn to live a new life, and maybe he could do this too. Maybe he could learn to love this place. He'd done a pretty damn good job out on the ice by the end, and he'd actually enjoyed it.

He wanted to scream at Fraser, when they were lying in bed at night and Fraser whispered things to him, things that made no damn sense _at all_: about how he loved Ray and how much he wanted him. But he never asked him to stay, not once. And Ray wasn't sure he could stay here, make a go of it, if Fraser didn't ask. So his only choice was to hightail it back to Chicago, because he couldn’t just hang out forever waiting for Fraser to ask him to stay.

Dief was sitting at his side, panting and dropping the stick at Ray's hip, and he thought about Fraser and this stupid fucking plan to buy a house up here. What was he thinking? It didn't seem to fit in with anything he knew about Fraser, who had gone from one detachment to another in Canada, before being banished, for all intents and purposes, to Chicago. Maybe there were things about Fraser that Ray had no idea about. Maybe Fraser wanted a house and a wife and kids and all that, someday. Maybe Ray didn't know Fraser one damn bit.

Ray stood up and rubbed his hands up and down the back of his pants to get the dirt off, and he and Dief walked slowly back to the hotel. Ray felt really, really stupid, like he was just waiting here for Fraser to get tired of him, until he wore out his welcome. He had to get back to his _life_, because this was never going to work. Ever.

When Ray got back to the room, tossing the key on the dresser, sending it skidding across the surface, he picked up the phone and used his credit card to make a call.

"Welsh."

"Hey, Lieu."

Welsh paused. "Well, Jesus Christ, Kowalski. Some people around here were taking bets on whether or not you'd been eaten by a polar bear."

"No, sir. I'm here in Inuvik, with Fraser." Ray cleared his throat. "Listen, I'm thinking I might be coming back."

"Yeah? Any idea when?" Welsh sounded curious, almost like he'd expected Ray to say he wasn't going to ever come back.

He tried to think. How long before he could get a flight? There was an airport about ten minutes from the hotel, he could probably get a flight down to Yellowknife or Edmonton in a couple of days. "Uh, how about early next week? I'll call you when I get in to town."

"Okay, Kowalski. There's a place for you if you want it, I told you that already. Give my regards to the constable,” Welsh said gruffly, but there was a softness underneath it.

Ray sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I will. See you next week." He put the phone down gently on the cradle.

He was leaving, for real. He was kind of going to miss Canada.

*****

Fraser came back to the hotel around three, and after making out, Fraser pressing Ray up against the wall, Ray gasping and panting desperately into Fraser's neck, they went outside to meet Cindy, who had walked down from her office to meet them.

She walked with them about six blocks, to Dolphin Street (Dolphin Street? Where the hell were there dolphins up here?), and this, okay, yeah, this was a little better, even just from the outside. A small yard, and yeah, there were neighbors pretty close by, but it wasn't a row house, that was for damn sure.

Cindy opened the wide, wooden front door, and Ray watched Fraser's face as Cindy led them through the rooms.

"So, you'll see, Constable, this house has lovely wood features throughout the space, and there's a nice little yard out back."

Fraser nodded. The house was fucking _huge_, but it was older than a lot of the houses in town, and the ceilings were low, and Ray could almost see Fraser getting claustrophobic in there, even though Ray was sure Fraser had never in his life lived in a house so big.

"How many bedrooms?" Ray said to Cindy, and Fraser turned his head. Ray hadn't said a single thing during this process yet, not at Cindy's office, not at the last houses, and maybe on some level that was because he didn't think he had the right, but now that he was leaving, he wanted to make sure Fraser got something nice. He wanted to be able to picture Fraser in the very right place. If Fraser wanted to buy a house, then Ray wanted him to get the right one.

Cindy smiled. "Four. One downstairs, three up. Two bathrooms."

"Okay, good."

Fraser finally sighed and said, "I just don't think it's right, Cindy. I mean, it's quite lovely, and the woodwork _is_ impressive, but I just - I don't think it's me, that's all."

Cindy walked up to Fraser and clasped his arm, the smile never leaving her face. "Don't worry, we'll find the right one. You want something smaller, right? More space outside, less inside? Maybe not right in town?"

Fraser nodded, and Cindy opened her file and flipped through some papers, a few pieces of black hair coming loose from her pencil-held hair. "I think I've got a couple of more places to show you that I’m sure you'll like. I'll set them up. Same time tomorrow then?"

*****

Ray was pretty sure that there must be lobster sauce leaking all over the carpet, where Fraser had dropped the container on the floor, but he didn't care, he didn't care _at all_, because Fraser was leaning over him and jerking Ray off, so hot, just on the good side of rough, his big hand wrapped tight and firm around Ray's dick.

"Christ, Fraser - come on, come on," he said, one hand braced on Fraser's neck and holding him tight.

Fraser was good, he was so good like this, his eyes cast down to watch himself, his hand moving on Ray. This was something they'd done countless times in the last few weeks, really the only thing they could do in the sleeping bag with any kind of success. Fraser's hand was familiar, hot and tight and stroking Ray just right, just the way he needed.

"Yeah," Ray breathed out, as Fraser stroked him hard, then, Fraser stopped, he fucking _stopped_. "Fraser, what the -" he started, but Fraser's mouth was on his, Fraser's palms on his cheeks, and this was just as good as getting jerked off, better even. Fraser's tongue was pushing into his mouth, and Ray just held on. Let Fraser kiss the hell out of him, and he'd almost forgotten, with all the sex they'd been having over the past few days, what it felt like to just _kiss_ Fraser. Like they used to. He'd gotten used to the way things were out there, even after just a few weeks, and he was just holding on to every last bit of that, now that this was almost done. Him and Fraser, partnership over, for good.

Ray closed his eyes and Fraser moved to his neck, sucking and biting across Ray's jaw. "Please," Ray whispered. "Please, Fraser, please, I need -"

Fraser's hand was back and wrapped around both of them now, Fraser's hard dick sliding against Ray's with every stroke, and it was good, it was _perfect_.

Ray gripped Fraser's shoulder, hard, as he came between them, all over the skin of their bellies. Fraser moaned and let go of them, bracing his hands on the bed next to Ray's shoulders and sliding, over and over again, through the slickness until he bit down hard on Ray's shoulder and collapsed.

They were a mess, but Fraser didn't move, just did the guy thing and rolled to the side, mumbling something Ray couldn't understand and falling asleep. Ray stayed awake for a while, running his fingers along the slick, warm skin at his hip where Fraser had come.

THURSDAY

Ray woke up to the feel of Fraser planting a quick kiss on his forehead. He moaned and reached his hand up to run his fingers down the outside seam of Fraser's jeans, the rough denim warm from Fraser's skin. Ray had expected to feel Fraser’s soft, bare skin; he guessed it was later than he thought it was.

"I have to go, Ray. I'm due at the detachment in ten minutes," Fraser said reluctantly.

Ray stirred under Fraser and willed his mostly-asleep brain to work, enough to figure out what the hell was going on. "Mmm...okay. See you - to go see the house, yeah?"

"Yes, I'll meet you at Cindy's around one. I think we just have one house to see today, so we can do lunch after?"

Ray leaned up, eyes still closed, finding the corner of Fraser's mouth with his, then pulling back and sinking down into the pillows. "Yeah. Take Dief with you, 'kay? I think he might be tired of being stuck here all day."

"Very well. Dief?" Fraser stood up and gestured to the door, looking at Dief pointedly. Dief sighed, like the weight of the world was on his half-wolf shoulders, before trotting to the door. Fraser turned the doorknob, then looked back at Ray. "Goodbye," he said, his voice soft and low.

"'Bye, Fraser," Ray said, pulling the bedspread up to his chin.

After Fraser left, Ray tossed and turned and tried to go back to sleep, but his mind was going a mile a minute. He had to get up, make arrangements to get back to Chicago, figure out how the hell to talk to Fraser. Fuck.

Ray was up, showered, and out the door in about a half an hour, walking down to the office. Katie was on duty again, and Ray stood behind a young couple, a man and a woman, decked out in a few thousand dollars' worth of winter gear, waiting. Once the couple had gotten their keys and started dragging their huge fucking bags toward the door, Ray sidled up to the desk.

"Hey, Katie," Ray said, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Hi, Ray," Katie replied, smiling, pushing her long, dark hair behind her ears. Ray had chatted with her most days, either going out or coming in, and she was a nice kid. And he was pretty sure she had a crush on him.

"Listen, can you do me a favor?"

"Of course!" Her voiced squeaked, just a bit.

"I need to book some plane tickets. Is there a travel agent in town somewhere?" God, it was hard to even say that.

Katie reached down behind the desk and pulled out a map, marking on it for Ray a spot a couple of blocks away. On Bonnetplume Road. (What the hell was a bonnetplume?) "Julie McKay runs a little place here, you should be able to get your tickets. If she's closed, you could always go right to the airport. Buy the tickets there."

Ray gathered the map up from the counter, folding it and shoving it into the pocket of his jacket. "You're a doll, Katie, really. I owe you one." He flashed her a smile and left, trying to push away the horrible, gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. And he would never tell Fraser that he made him take Dief to the detachment because he couldn't stand being watched by the wolf, Dief _knowing_ that he planning to leave and not telling Fraser. He knew Dief would make him feel guilty, and he couldn't stand it. Not one bit.

It was an easy walk to Bonnetplume Road, the cold, biting air wiping the thoughts from his head, even if just for a few, much-needed minutes. When he got there, Julie seemed to be open for business, a small sign in the window, and Ray was relieved, because he was sure he'd chicken out before he could get all the way to the airport.

Ray opened the door and walked in, and saw a small, blonde woman sitting at a desk, typing at a computer. The office was neat, and there was a poster of "The Majestic Northwest Territories" on the wall, and some smaller posters of New York City and Los Angeles. She looked up at Ray and smiled. "Hi, I'm Julie. How can I help you today?"

"Hi." He stretched out his hand to her, and she shook it firmly, which kind of surprised him, because she was tiny. "I'm Ray. I'm looking to buy a plane ticket." He thought he saw a flicker of recognition in her eyes, like she knew who he was (the new Constable's "friend") but was too polite to say.

"Okay, Ray." Julie tapped away at her computer keyboard, before looking back up. "Where to?"

Ray cleared his throat. "Chicago."

"And when would you like to leave? Is this round-trip?" Ray wanted to laugh, because there was a fucking question he had no clue how to answer. He knew he _had_ to leave, had to go back to Chicago. Part of him wanted to stay, but Fraser wasn't asking, and Welsh was expecting him back in a few days, so that pretty much answered that question. Ray couldn’t wait here forever when he had something he could go back to. He took a deep breath.

"As soon as possible. One way."

"Okay," Julie said, typing furiously and clicking on her mouse. "I have a flight from Inuvik via Norman Wells and Edmonton, that leaves Saturday afternoon and will get you to Chicago on Sunday morning. Is that soon enough?"

Ray felt like he was going to puke, all over cute little Julie's clean office. "Yeah, sounds good. I'll take it."

*****

Ray met Fraser and Cindy at her office again, and Ray pulled up the collar on his coat when Cindy said the house was a good walk away, but not really worth getting the car going on a cold day like this. Ray stifled his own urge to protest, and walked close enough to Fraser the whole way to get some of Fraser's body heat, to take away the chill.

The house was a little bit on the outskirts of town, close enough to walk to everything necessary, but far enough away that Ray could already see Fraser breathing easier, deeper, steadier than he ever had in Chicago or Inuvik, just like he had when they were out on the ice.

Cindy was walking quickly and talking, gesturing with her hands. "I think you're really going to like this one, Constable Fraser. First off, there's the lot..." And she was off, walking them around the back of the house to look at the yard, which was pretty big, plenty of room for Dief to run around outside. There was a good deal of space between this house and the next one, and Ray watched closely as Fraser nodded and asked questions, definitely more into this place than any of the others. Cindy unlocked the back door, and yeah, this place was really, really nice, a mudroom in the back, leading to a smallish eat-in kitchen.

"A family just moved from here, a married couple and their two children, and I think this was a bit too small for them, but should be just about perfect for your needs," Cindy said, gesturing at them. "It's got a master bedroom, and two small additional bedrooms, one bathroom, a garage." She was ticking things off on her short fingers. Ray could feel the tickets that Julie had printed out pressing into his skin, from where they were tucked into the inside pocket of his coat.

"It's great, Cindy. Really." Ray smiled at her, because Fraser was just standing there, a blank expression on his face, looking dumbstruck almost.

Cindy looked back and forth between them, and then smiled slightly. "Well, I'll just leave you boys alone for a few minutes."

She scurried from room, leaving Fraser and Ray standing in the middle of the kitchen, Ray watching Fraser think. "Frase?"

"Hmm?" Fraser said, looking up, like he'd been miles away. What was the hell was going on?

"So, this is it, right? I mean, this place is excellent, lots of space, not too big, not right in town. Perfect."

Fraser paused. "I don't know, Ray. You're quite right. It _is_ an excellent home, but something doesn't feel right. I can't exactly put my finger on it, but I want to keep looking, I think. Maybe one more house, and then we can make a decision." Whoa. We? Ray wasn’t sure what the hell he had to do with the decision, but maybe Fraser just felt better with a second opinion or something.

Ray walked over and cupped his hand at the back of Fraser's neck. "Okay, Fraser. One more." Fraser smiled, and Ray felt the tickets like a weight against his chest.

When they got outside, Cindy was scribbling on her pad of paper again. Ray wondered what the hell she wrote in that thing. Maybe some fodder for the Inuvik rumor mill, about the new Mountie and the American. She flipped her file closed and looked up, jamming the pen behind her ear. "One more, Constable?"

*****

"Please."

Fraser was fucking Ray, had him bent over, face down, on the side of the bed, their clothes long forgotten at the foot of the bed next to the empty food cartons. Fraser was sliding in and out, slick and hot and so fucking slow, and he had Ray's hands underneath his, Ray’s wrists pinned tightly to the bed. Fraser held him down, and Ray had already given up struggling, and he didn't really want to get away anyway. It felt good, grounding, to be held down, Fraser's body draped over him, hot and heavy.

Fraser hadn't messed around, must have been really turned on, because he stripped Ray and pushed him face down against the edge of the bed, and then took off his own clothes. Before Ray could even ask what the hell had gotten into him, Fraser was pushing the blunt head of his cock against Ray's ass, and Ray was gulping down deep breaths and trying to relax. Fraser set a slow, easy rhythm, driving Ray fucking crazy, before catching Ray's wrists and holding on.

"Come on, harder," Ray grunted, and Fraser tightened his grip on Ray's wrists and slammed into Ray's ass, impossibly hard. It felt so good, and it _hurt_, it was fucking killing him. Fraser was trying to fuck right through him, and Ray wanted it, he wanted to feel it. "_Harder_"

Fraser almost growled, pulling out and pushing back in, none of his regular consideration, and Ray could feel himself breaking apart, splitting open, bruises starting around his wrists where Fraser's fingers were pressing into his skin. "God, Ray," Fraser breathed out against his neck.

"Give it to me, please, please, Fraser, don't make me beg -" Fraser moaned, and just fucked Ray, slamming in again and again, no rhythm, no finesse, and it was pain and pleasure and exactly what Ray needed, and he was going to be feeling this fuck for days. He'd be able to feel Fraser inside him back in Chicago.

Ray had gone completely non-verbal, and was just moaning as Fraser worked his cock into Ray's ass. Fraser cried out and latched his teeth onto Ray's neck, biting down hard and coming deep inside of Ray, shooting off again and again.

Fraser went still, panting and draping over Ray. "Jesus," Ray whispered, and he could feel Fraser smiling and licking the place he'd bit on the back of Ray's neck, soothing it. Ray tried to move his hips against the rough sheets of the bed, get some friction against his cock, but Fraser wasn't letting him move one bit.

Finally, after Ray thought he'd _die_ if Fraser didn't let him come, Fraser flipped him over and up, onto his back, laying at Ray's side and gripping Ray's cock tightly in his fist and sliding two fingers into Ray's slick, fucked-out ass. It only took a few strokes, because Ray was so fucking close already, and he came all over Fraser's hand and his own belly. Fraser worked him through it, watching him come before pulling his fingers out of Ray's ass gently and grabbing the towel he'd put on the couch earlier (Fraser was fucking _brilliant_). He cleaned up his hand and Ray's belly and then tossed the towel on top of their clothes and pulled Ray close.

Ray didn't want this, Fraser kissing him softly, stroking his soft, wet tongue against Ray's lips. He wanted it to hurt. He wanted Fraser to make it easy.

FRIDAY

Ray woke up early that morning. He didn't bother to turn over to see what time it was, but it was a good hour before the sun started coming in the windows. He was on his side, taking in the faint outline of Fraser's face, watching the sun streaming through the gap in the curtains light up his skin. Ray was memorizing, cataloging, trying to take in every little thing.

Fraser's hair was falling against his forehead, and Ray had to tuck his hands in between his body and the bed to keep from reaching out. He didn't want to wake Fraser up, because then the day would start and Fraser would go to work and maybe buy a house and Ray would be that much closer to fucking off back to Chicago. Back to a job that wasn't really his, a life he didn't know anymore, and, worst of all, no partnership with Fraser.

Because the sex was great, fantastic, _mind-blowing_ even, but Fraser was his best friend, and Ray couldn't remember the last best friend he'd had. He'd thought Stella was everything for him for a long time, but even that had turned out all wrong, and now he was fucking it up again. But it wasn't his fault. He couldn't stay here, in this weird and alien place, and he was pretty sure that Fraser not saying anything was Fraser's way of telling him to take a hike, despite the whispered words and the hot sex.

He was going to miss all of those things, but mostly, he was going to miss just having Fraser there. Going out to Chinese and smirking as Fraser ordered in what seemed like, to Ray, pretty proper and stilted Cantonese. Ordering a pizza and watching a hockey game, and getting to see Fraser with his uniform off, with his sleeves rolled up. Christ, Ray sometimes even got him to drink _beer_, and, yeah, he'd nurse the bottle the whole night, but he'd also sit on the edge of his seat and cheer, so Ray figured it was a win-win, all around.

He was going to miss Fraser next to him, stupid idiot in bright red with no fucking gun, who always tried to get himself (and Ray most of the time) killed, who always knew what Ray was going to do before Ray even knew, who remembered every damn thing and was smart as hell. Fraser saved him, because he was _this_ close to giving up, saying fuck you to the Chicago PD and everything else before Fraser made him believe in himself again.

Chicago was going to suck without Fraser, and Ray worried that he might suck without Canada. But he couldn't stay. He had things, and a life (pathetic as it was) back there, and nothing but Fraser who wouldn't fucking _say anything_ here. So he was leaving, because it was the safest bet, because he knew what would happen. And maybe he was a fucking idiot for taking the safe bet, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want to get hurt.

Ray watched as Fraser's eyes blinked open, soft and blue in the dim light of the room. Fraser's mouth turned up into a half-smile.

"Hey, Fraser," Ray whispered, reaching out to rest his hand on the warm skin right above the waistband of Fraser's boxers, safe to touch him now that he was awake.

"Ray." Fraser pulled Ray into his arms, wrapping him up. Ray buried his face in Fraser's chest and breathed him in, memorizing his smell, which drove Ray crazy even when it had been days since they'd been able to wash out of the trail. He rubbed his cheek against the soft fabric of the Henley. Fraser's arms were around him, and he felt totally protected, even though he knew it was stupid, that even if Fraser tried to protect him, Ray was still going to get hurt. He _was_ hurt. This was killing him.

They stayed like that for a while, and Fraser's hands were clutching and almost desperate, keeping Ray gathered in close. He could feel Fraser trying to keep him there, somehow, in that touch, but Ray had made up his mind. He was leaving and nothing short of Fraser begging him could make him stay. Finally, Fraser pulled back and rested his hand on Ray's cheek. "I have to go."

"I know." Ray was kind of embarrassed by how much he liked these mornings before Fraser left, Fraser kissing him and leaving and Ray falling back to sleep or going out or whatever. This was the last one they had like it.

"We have an appointment with Cindy at 12:30. She said she'd pick us up here in her car, because she doesn’t want to walk that far, especially in this weather, even though it seems quite warm to me."

"You’re a freak, Fraser. Let the woman drive. I'll meet you here, then."

Fraser nodded, then moved away, swinging his legs around and planting his feet on the floor. He stretched his arms above his head before getting up to pad across the room, and stepping into a clean pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. Ray watched this too, and, god, he was torturing himself. Three months of watching Fraser like this every day, in the tent or in the hotel room, and he couldn't look away, couldn't stop trying to imprint the image on his brain, because he was sure he'd need it back in Chicago.

When Fraser was done, he turned around, and Ray's breath caught, because Fraser was just gorgeous, his jeans on just the good side of tight and his dark blue flannel shirt bringing out his eyes. Ray felt like a fourteen-year-old girl around Fraser most of the time, and if he started talking, he'd probably babble, so he kept his mouth clamped shut while Fraser walked over. Fraser bent down and took Ray's face, Fraser’s palm warm and calloused, into his hands, kissing him firmly, holding on tight. "See you in a few hours."

Fraser left, Dief trailing behind, which was just as well, because Ray was pretty sure by the way Dief was looking at him that he was on to Ray, that he could tell that Ray was leaving and not telling Fraser. It made him feel like shit, so he just gave Dief dirty looks whenever Fraser's back was turned.

The door clicked shut and Ray slid out of bed, pulling on a discarded shirt, still on the floor from the night before, over his t-shirt and walked over to the dresser, pulling out one of the packs from the top drawer and tossing it on the bed. He went through the other drawers, carefully separating his stuff from Fraser's, the soft flannel shirts, the long underwear, the jeans, trying to figure out which socks were his and finally deciding to just leave them all, because when the hell was he going to need wool socks in Chicago?

Ray's clothes were in haphazard piles on top of the dresser, and Ray starting shoving them into the bag, piece by piece, finally pushing a couple of pairs of boxers down into the corners and zipping it shut. He threw the bag next to the door, then headed for the shower.

*****

Cindy drove a Mercedes SUV, which kind of surprised the hell out of Ray, because, well, this didn't seem like a luxury SUV kind of town, overall, and Cindy was just, well...Cindy. She was wearing a bright yellow suit and an orange blouse, and her hair was tied back and she was grinning from the driver's seat. Ray guessed being the number one real estate agent in town (which Cindy had made sure they'd known, from day one) had its advantages.

Ray gestured for Fraser to take shotgun, and Ray slid into the back. Ray wasn't much for cars like this, but this one was _nice_, leather seats, and Cindy, who was a genius pretty much all around (aside from her taste in clothing), had the heat cranked up to tropical level.

"Ready, boys?" Cindy said perkily, adjusting her mirrors and pulling away from the curb.

The drive was short, a little more than five minutes, but they'd left what Ray would consider town a couple of minutes ago. Cindy finally turned down a long driveway, and Ray saw the house out of the left-hand window. It was small, almost looked like a cabin, and there were tons of trees. Cindy jerked the car to a stop and threw it in park.

Ray and Fraser followed Cindy to the back door, and Cindy opened it. "I think, Constable, that this might be what you were looking for. Four point five acres. Nearest neighbor a quarter of a mile."

The back door was huge and old, made of some wood that Fraser probably knew the name of. There was a small back porch area leading into the house. The inside of the house was small, too, intimate, even. The first floor had a living room, a small dining room, and a kitchen. "There are two bedrooms and a bath upstairs," Cindy was saying, but Ray was pretty sure that Fraser was already sold, if the look on his face was any indication.

The bedrooms upstairs were smaller, not ridiculously small but definitely not huge, and the bathroom was nice. But more than that, Ray could picture Fraser being happy here, and this was definitely it. The end of the road for the house-hunting.

Cindy was pressing the keys into Fraser's hand. "Take your time, look around, if you’re okay with walking back. You can drop these by my office later, okay? I'm not going to sell the house out from underneath you, anyway," Cindy said, winking at Fraser. Fraser took the key and shook Cindy's hand, making her blush before she left and went down the stairs.

"I think I'm going to buy a house, Ray." Fraser said calmly, evenly, in that _oh my god, I’m totally freaking out_ tone of his.

"Yeah."

"I've never owned my own home. I mean, I have my father's cabin in the Yukon, but I only inherited it when he died. I've never had a home of my own. This is quite unexpected."

Ray opened his mouth to congratulate Fraser, to tell him that he deserved it, but the words died in his throat. Instead, he turned to face the freshly-painted wall. "Fuck you, Fraser."

"Excuse me?"

He turned, suddenly angry, angry at Fraser for making this life and getting all these things and not making room for Ray in them, for being happy while Ray was _dying_ inside. For not saying anything, for never saying anything, and just -

"I said fuck you, okay? I'm so happy for you, Fraser, really, have a great life in your new house. Write me letters, okay? I want to hear about how fucking great things are here all the time." He could hear the bitterness in his voice, and it stung like hell, but now that he was finally saying what he hadn't been able to say for what felt like fucking years, he was going to say it _all_.

Fraser looked confused, and he took a step closer to Ray, reaching his hand out. Ray slapped Fraser’s hand away and backed up against the wall. "Ray, I don't know what you're talking about,” Fraser said, pulling his own hand back and lowering his voice.

"Yeah, I know. See, the thing is, you stopped talking to me. You take me with you to look at _houses_, you're settling down here in this ridiculous little town, and where does that leave me, huh?"

"Ray -"

"I mean, I don't know what I'd do if I stayed. I can't be a fucking _cop_ here, and I'm not sure I know how to do anything else, but I wanted you to ask me, or tell me you didn't want me here. I wanted to make a decision, I wanted to know what I was leaving if I left it."

"Ray -"

Ray glared at Fraser, and roughly pulled the plane tickets out of this jacket. The edges were bent, just a little, and he thrust them out at Fraser. "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter, because I called Welsh yesterday and I have tickets and I'm going back to my shitty little life in Chicago. I'll be out of your hair tomorrow."

"Ray!" Fraser was up close and Ray hadn't even noticed that Fraser had moved, but he had his hand on Ray's shoulder, and Ray felt like he was going to fly apart. Goddamn it.

"What?" he yelled back, not even meaning to.

Fraser sighed. "You bought a plane ticket?"

"Yeah, uh, yesterday." Ray couldn't look at Fraser, because he could see the fear and hurt in Fraser's eyes and it sucked so much that he trained his eyes down on the tips of his boots. But this was all Fraser’s damn fault anyway. “It’s not like I have to tell you everything. You haven’t been telling me a damn thing, so what’s a plane ticket anyway?”

"So, you're leaving." Fraser's voice was sad, and it was breaking Ray's heart.

"I didn't think you needed me hanging around any longer."

Fraser pulled away and went into parade rest, a position Ray hadn't seen since they'd left Chicago. It looked foreign, and he looked almost nothing like the Fraser Ray knew. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry."

"I thought you knew."

God, what the hell was Fraser talking about? He wasn't making any goddamn _sense_. "Knew what?"

"This is for you. The house. I wanted - well, I don't really know what I thought I was doing, but I wanted you to stay. And I guess I thought you knew that." Fraser wouldn’t look at Ray, and he sounded totally defeated.

Ray didn’t say anything, just stood there for a few minutes. "You're buying me a house?" Ray finally said, his voice getting a little high at the end because, god, what the hell was happening?

Fraser cleared his throat and looked at a spot on the wall somewhere past Ray's shoulder. "Yes, I guess you could say that."

"Jesus Christ, Fraser, clue a guy in, will you? You never said anything. Except when we were having sex, and every guy knows that you say crazy shit when you're thinking with your dick, so I tried not to read into it too much. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I suppose I thought I was showing you. And you seemed to like it here, and you seemed happy, and I guess I just didn't think -"

Ray looked at Fraser, who was clearly torturing himself, and Ray really couldn't think, in the moment, of one single reason to leave. Here was Fraser, offering him a home and a life and everything, and what the hell did Chicago have to compare to that? He'd miss it, sure, but that's what planes were for, and at least he could get Chinese food here, and he'd learn to make pizza. He wanted to stay, he'd known that all along, somewhere in the back of his mind, he was just waiting for Fraser to ask so that he could say yes. Yes, god, yes. And yeah, it was fucked up, but Fraser was asking _now_. Ray pulled back the ticket and ripped it, into tiny pieces, watching Norman Wells and Edmonton and Chicago disappear and drift onto the floor.

Then, Ray pinned Fraser up against the wall, Fraser's protest muffled by the press of Ray's lips to his. Ray broke away and leaned back a bit, smiling. "You know, for a guy who talks so damn much, you don't say a lot. But the answer's yes. It was yes a year ago, it was yes a week ago, and it's yes today, okay?"

Fraser pulled Ray close, his breath hot and heavy against Ray's ear. "Stay, Ray, please. Stay here with me, _live_ with me, buy a house with me. Please." Then Fraser's mouth found his, and they were kissing, hot and perfect and even better than the hundred other times they'd kissed, because everything made sense now, everything had been right all along, only Ray hadn't known it.

When they pulled away from each other, gasping, Ray had both hands on Fraser's face. "I love you, you freak, and if you ever do this to me again, I'll kick you in the head. Got it?"

Fraser smiled, that wide-open smile again, and Ray grinned right back. "Understood, Ray," Fraser said, before flipping Ray around and pushing him up against the wall, kissing him, pushing his tongue into Ray's mouth, no desperation now because they had all the time in the world.

"What do you say, Fraser," Ray said against Fraser's lips, "how about we christen this place and then go see if we can catch Cindy in her office, get the ball rolling on this thing?"

"Best idea I've heard in a long time," Fraser answered, opening the buttons on Ray's jeans.

EPILOGUE

Ray drew the tape across the last box and bit it off with his teeth, smoothing it down. He carried it over and stacked it on the pile next to the door, dropping to the floor next to it. He was wiped. He'd been packing for what felt like years, and wondering how the hell he and Fraser had so much stuff after such a short time.

Fraser was out on patrol, had been gone for five days, and was scheduled to be back sometime in the next day. Ray was scrambling to get everything in order for the move, because they'd closed on the house a couple of weeks ago, and Fraser being gone was the only thing holding them back.

That afternoon, a couple of months back, when they'd found the house, they'd gone to see Cindy, who was smiling knowingly as they walked into her office. Ray smiled back at her and flopped into one of the chairs. "We'll take it, Cin."

She had clapped and started pulling out all kinds of things for them to sign, and Fraser was laughing, _laughing_, next to him. That night, Fraser behind him with two bags of food that was _not_ Chinese, thank god, Ray had sat on the bed and called Welsh.

"Welsh."

"Hey."

"Kowalski. You back in town yet?"

"Well, that's the thing. I, uh, I'm not coming back. I'm going to stay here." He paused, then took a deep breath. "With Fraser."

Welsh was quiet for a moment, and Ray had just started to freak out when he said, "Well, I can't say I'm surprised, Kowalski. Now, I'll deny it if you tell anyone I said this, but I hope you two are happy. Lord knows no one else would put up with either of you.” It was as close as Welsh could sound to affectionate.

Ray laughed. "Yeah, you're right. Tell everyone I said hey, and I'll stop in when I'm in town."

"Good luck."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

He called Frannie next. He could hear the screaming of Tony and Maria’s kids in the background, but Frannie was happy to hear from him.

“We thought you’d frozen solid up there, big brother,” Frannie said teasingly.

“Nah. We’re good, real good. Actually, that’s why I’m calling. I don’t think I’m coming back.”

Frannie was silent for a few minutes, probably trying to wrap her head around the fact that Ray was staying in Canada, with _Fraser_. “Well, Ray, I can’t say I’m all that surprised,” Frannie said knowlingly.

Ray laughed, and they made plans for Frannie to take the turtle, talk to Ray’s landlord, and pack up a couple of boxes of things that Ray wanted. His stereo, his CDs, a few other things.

At the end of the conversation, after they’d checked in and Frannie had (she swore) written everything down, she said, “Take care of him, okay?”

Ray swallowed hard. “I’ll sure as hell try, Frannie.”

Within a week, they were moving their couple of bags and their wolf into an apartment that Cindy had found for them to stay in temporarily, and they'd been there for two months, getting everything ready. It was a small place, but they'd started buying things, filling it up, which was probably stupid since it all had to be moved again. Ray's boxes arrived. They bought a bed, a couch, a dining room table. Dishes. A television. A beat-up Jeep that Ray was going to have to spend about a hundred hours on before it stopped sucking.

Ray's hand had been steady when he signed his name next to Fraser's on the mortgage down at the bank. Sure, he was scared shitless, but this felt right, more right than being married had. This was what he wanted, and he was going to hang on to it for as long as he could.

They'd gone down to Cindy's office right before Fraser left, and Cindy had slid the keys, on a moose keychain, across the desk to them, and Ray picked them up, fingering them. Shit. This was really happening.

"I hope you two are happy. In the house," Cindy said, looking almost teary. Ray was going to miss her, but she was right there, and town was _small_, and he was sure they'd see much more of each other. Because he lived in fucking Inuvik now.

Ray lifted his head from where it was resting back against the boxes when he heard Fraser's footsteps on the stairs, heard him banging the snow off of his boots in front of the door. Dief's toenails were clicking on the wood. He heaved himself up off the floor, and went to meet Fraser at the door.


End file.
